


One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

by multiplelizards



Series: Too Much [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Very light on the Angst this time I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiplelizards/pseuds/multiplelizards
Summary: Geralt neverwantsJaskier to stay. He's obnoxious, he's annoying, he's essentiallyuselesson the path. Other than occasionally being able to sing for their supper, Jaskier is frequently more trouble than he's worth.And yet, Geralt finds himself growing fond of the bard anyway.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Too Much [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991638
Comments: 46
Kudos: 356





	One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Author's Note:**

> The much asked for companion to [Too Much, Not Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155470). Could be read as stand-alone, though.
> 
> Please take some very soft boys figuring their shit out, finally.

Geralt never _wants_ Jaskier to stay. He's obnoxious, he's annoying, he's essentially _useless_ on the path. Other than occasionally being able to sing for their supper, Jaskier is frequently more trouble than he's worth.

And yet, Geralt finds himself growing fond of the bard anyway.

It happens in little, innocuous ways. Jaskier uses his own coin to rent them a room the innkeeper wouldn't rent to Geralt. Jaskier saves Geralt the best cut of rabbit. Jaskier mends his clothing without prompting or pointing it out. Jaskier stops buying his overly fragrant perfumes and starts opting for something milder, less headache-inducing for Geralt. It's equal parts charming and maddening. He doesn't _want_ to like Jaskier, but Jaskier is persistent, worming his way into Geralt's life--vital, unshakable, a constant.

By the time Geralt decides to give up, drop his guard, really just let the bard in, he starts to pull away. It's the little things at first--a contest here, a festival there. Gone for a week or two and promptly back again. Geralt misses him immeasurably when he's gone, hates that he misses him.

His absences get longer, more frequent and Geralt begins to wonder. Everything had seemed fine, so what did he do to drive the bard away? Because he must have done something. When he is around he's quieter, more reserved. Not always, but more than he should be. Geralt looks at him and sees it, that frantic, frenetic energy, trapped like a held breath. Jaskier holds back, and it grates at Geralt. He's ruined it, he's just not sure how.

He's angry about so many things, the slow falling apart of his friendship with Jaskier (and yes, the bard is his friend, could be _more_ if Geralt wasn't a coward, if this _thing_ between them wasn't splitting apart at the seams), the child surprise, his inability to handle either of those things. He's angry and he's tired and he just wants to _rest_ , wants things to go back to the way they were, desperately.

And then the djinn happens.

He knows almost as soon as he makes that wish to save Yennefer that attaching himself to her is a mistake. He falls into bed with her anyway, ties himself even _closer_. He's looking for closeness, for that intangible _thing_ Jaskier seems to have taken with him.

He doesn't find it with Yen, but he keeps telling himself it will be there, if he tries hard enough.

Jaskier pulls farther away. Now he's gone for months at a time, whole seasons. Geralt spends days and weeks and months with Yennefer, instead. He can tell from the look in her eyes that she knows what he's doing, but she doesn't call him on it, welcomes him with open arms and a warm bed every time. It's still not what he wants and he hates himself for hurting them both this way.

He misses his bard, misses the way Jaskier used to be _before_ , before Yennefer, before the child surprise, before whatever it was Geralt did that made Jaskier withdraw from him so much. He wishes he could _fix this_. 

Jaskier's back for a short while and they're camped for the night--they're about a week's travel from the Pontar where they'll split for their respective winter homes--but it feels as if he's still gone. He's too quiet, too still, too unobtrusive. Geralt longs for noise, for song, for the absent way Jaskier used to hum under his breath to himself.

Geralt wants to treasure this time Jaskier still allows him, but this? This hardly feels like _him_ anymore. And if this is all falling apart anyway--

"Jaskier."

\--he may as well try and fix it. Worst case scenario, he fucks this up, Jaskier leaves for good, and the whole thing ends immediately, like dousing a wound in alcohol to ward off festering. It hurts like a bitch now, with the hopes it will hurt less, later.

"Hm?" He doesn't look at Geralt, continues tracing some figure absently in the dirt.

"Why are you so quiet?"

He startles, eyes meeting Geralt's briefly before darting away, "You like the quiet."

Something in Geralt's chest _clenches_. "I like you," he says, honesty welling up from somewhere deep inside him, "and I like your noise, bard."

Jaskier gives a derisive snort, tosses his head to get his fringe out of his eyes, keeps his gaze trained on that little figure in the dirt. "Sure," he says, sarcastic and dismissive. That one...that one hurts. Does Jaskier think he doesn't enjoy his company?

"You've been...very quiet, lately." It's been a lot more than just lately. "Was it--" he doesn't want to know, not really, but he needs to know if he wants to fix this, "--was it something I did?"

His gaze jumps up to Geralt's face, darts away again just as quickly, "No."

"Then what's the matter, Jaskier?"

The silence is deafening. Jaskier sits unnaturally still, all that energy held tight in taunt muscles.

"I'm too much," he grits out, eyes still downturned.

"Too much?" His question is soft, coaxing. Jaskier's wound tight, like a cornered animal. Anxiety pours from him, a sickly scent like a tainted well. He doesn't want him to retreat, doesn't want him to lash out.

"I'm _too much_ ," Jaskier repeats, venom dripping from every word, but it's directed inward, not at Geralt, "and I'm trying _so hard_ not to be, Geralt. Please. Drop it."

Geralt shifts, slowly, until they're sitting close enough that he could reach a hand out, touch his shoulder. He doesn't. "You're not too much, Jask."

He makes a tiny, wounded sound and won't meet his eyes. "I am."

"What makes you think you are?" Geralt's chest is tight with an emotion he doesn't know how to name. He wants to tuck Jaskier against his chest and hold him there forever.

"I always have been," he says, not really answering the question. "You should just--" he chokes. Geralt catches the salty tang of tears, watches them paint a trail down the side of Jaskier's averted face, "--you should just stop. You don't have to put up with me anymore. You've got your Yennefer." His words are bitter, but Geralt can tell they're still directed inward from the hunch of his shoulders, the tone of his voice. He can also tell this has been a long time coming.

"Jaskier," he reaches out, tentative, and tugs Jaskier to his chest, giving in to the impulse. Jaskier resists for only a moment before he goes, burrowing into Geralt's arms, hiding his face against him. "You've never been too much. I miss--" _I miss before, I miss you, your singing, your carelessness, your brazen self-confidence,_ "--I miss the parts of you you're trying to hide," he says finally. It's inelegant, not enough, but Jaskier gives a little hiccuping sob, clutches tighter to him.

"You don't mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, tips his head to brush a kiss along Jaskier's temple. The bard goes stiff in his arms before melting, all at once, on a shaky sigh. "I've missed you for a long time."

Jaskier makes a quiet, muffled noise against Geralt's chest, doesn't move. "I want nothing less than all of you," he murmurs, "promise you won't be less anymore?"

Jaskier shifts backward finally, to meet Geralt's eyes. His own are wide and wet, tears still slipping from the corners in a sluggish trickle. He wipes them away with the heel of his hand. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course," Geralt says, simple, and Jaskier sags back into his arms like his strings have been cut. Geralt holds him like that, cradled against his chest, for a long time. They part only to bed down for the night, Geralt leaving another lingering kiss on Jaskier's temple that feels _right_ like nothing has in a very long time.

Geralt wakes in the morning to the quiet hush of Jaskier singing. He's shy, almost, when Geralt rises finally, but he lets Geralt manhandle him into an awkward hug when he goes to skirt by Geralt’s bedroll, allows himself to be tucked tight under the witcher’s chin. They just breathe together, for a moment.

They're both still a little sleep soft, and with last night lingering in Geralt's mind, it's really now or never; he won't work up the courage again. "I love all of you," He breathes into the top of Jaskier's hair. (It doesn't matter how it makes Geralt's own gut roll with anxiety, he needs to hear it). "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Jaskier sucks in a sharp, startled breath and ducks his head. Geralt can scent the disbelief, and beneath it, the wild sunshine and honey scent of joy, subtle and tentative, that settles his own nerves. He kisses Jaskier's temple again, rests his lips there.

" _Geralt_."

Geralt hums in response, noses down until his mouth is pressed to Jaskier's throat, can _taste_ the honey and sunshine scent against his skin. "I'm sorry you didn't think I wanted you."

"Yes, well--" he clears his throat, "--you had me fooled, didn't you?" He's nervous, just a little, on the verge of babbling. It's a good sign, makes a grin tug at Geralt's lips.

"I'll have to work hard to remind you, then," he murmurs, possessive delight unfurling in his gut at the flush that climbs up Jaskier's throat.

"I guess you will," he replies, voice low. And that? Geralt can work with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://writinglizards.tumblr.com/).


End file.
